


Sadisfaction guaranteed

by Insecuriosity



Series: Swerve loneliness series [3]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Coping, Droneverse, Gen, Loneliness, M/M, Other, Personfication, Power Imbalance, Sad, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 19:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4233657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insecuriosity/pseuds/Insecuriosity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lots of people got personal drones, and it wasn't anything to be ashamed of. They worked everywhere- in the medbays, in the libraries, the shops, the towers..... The purchase of a drone was not at all something to be ashamed of! Not unless the only reason you bought one was to feel a little bit less lonely at night. </p><p>Swerve saves up, and visits a drone-store for a personal companion. </p><p>Loosely based on this golden olden kinkmeme; http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=14238976#t14238976</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sadisfaction guaranteed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [charivari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charivari/gifts).



Swerve felt even smaller than usual, standing in front of the large building. It had taken weeks of self-coaching and speeches to the mirror to convince himself to come over here, and even more weeks to spare up the credits he needed for an actual purchase. 

He fidgeted. Lots of people got personal drones, and it wasn't anything to be ashamed of. They worked everywhere- in the medbays, in the libraries, the shops, the arthouses, the workplace, the streets, the towers... It was not at all something to be ashamed of. Not unless the only reason you bought one was to feel a little bit less lonely at night. 

But, nobody knew that! Nobody had to know that. Swerve ignored the little voice in the back of his head that whispered that nobody cared enough to know. 

He drew in a breath, and hurried through the door of the drone-store. He had taken one of his free days, and the streets were only a little crowded. He didn't want to be seen at all if possible- even if he knew that there was nobody that would really care what he was doing in a drone-shop.

“Hello, how can I help you?” A red raceframe was sitting behind a desk, looking very annoyed and filing at the razorsharp edges of his claws. He smelled strongly of wax. 

“Oh! Hey, good orn! Yes, I came in here to buy a drone, or to see some models.” Swerve said with a grin, his face barely peeked out over the edge of the desk. “My job's been getting wayy more hectic lately, and I just really need an extra pair of hands to file and label and answer the messages everyone leaves-” 

The bot behind the desk rolled his eyes and a smug little grin pulled on his lips. “Everyone comes for the same, minimech, you don't have to waste your time justifying it for me.” He pulled out a small pad and tossed him a stylus. “Do a quick fill-in and I'll show you to the bots that fit the criteria.” 

“Oh, uh, yes, of course.” Swerve quickly focused on the pad, and tried not to look like he was dying of shame in a shop for personal drones. The datapad was a standard list of questions, and Swerve felt himself shrink a little more when the preferred specs for interface equipment came to light.  
He would have liked to leave the line open, to really show that he wasn't buying a companion, but then he'd just be lying to himself.

After he was done he handed the list back to the employee, and the mech threw a glance over his answers. 

“Hn. That's your budget?” The mech did not sound impressed. “You'll have to do with a second-hand, but I assume you knew that?” 

“Yep! Got no problems with a second-hand drone, it's just going to be an assistant, you know. As long as it's not broken, a psycopath or a government spy, I'm fine with whatever you got.” As long as it looked and acted like a regular mech without telling him to shut up and go the frag away, Swerve would be happy with anything. 

The red mech made a short sound, and then stood up. “Follow me please. We have a bunch of defects in the back.” 

“Yea, okay.” Swerve followed the mech through the store, and glanced at all the offline models lying quietly on display, the overhead lights working off their perfect chassis and exposed energy-cores. “I bet it's really strange working here right? I mean, drones are sometimes so real-looking, and they reprogram themselves to fit into the situation and all that. Did you ever get problems when someone brought a drone back? Like, where it would draw guns, get all 'freedom for the slaves', and try to free the other drones, like that new vid-picture, where-?” Swerve babbled. 

“Please, sir.” The red mech said with a too-cheerful smile. “I'll have to ask you to be quiet. We do in fact have a recall that has violent outbreaks whenever someone taxes his audial systems.” 

“Oh, that sounds bad. How did that happen? Someone reprogrammed it in a dance club or something?” Swerve anxiously looked around the aisles as they approached the very back of the store. The shelves were stocked with spare materials, packaged optics staring down at Swerve as he passed. “It's not waking around free right?” 

The red mech just held a finger in front of his lips and gave him a rather serious look. Swerve couldn't tell if the mech was joking or not. He always had trouble distinguishing a joke from an actual request- people seemed to mix them up all the time, especially when they were making jokes about asking him to shut up.  
Just to be safe, he held his vocaliser offline as the employee walked him towards their goal.

“Alright, here we are. The rejects.” The red bot swiped a card through a flimsy doorlock, and stepped inside.  
Swerve was greeted by three rows of berth with drones strapped on them. Their optics were online, and their restrained heads moved in unison to observe the new strangers coming into the room. They were all hooked up to feeding tubes and there were solvent sprinklers hanging over each one. 

Swerve forced an uneasy grin and waved. “Hii...” He turned to the red bot and whispered “Are they even... are they online? This whole room looks really creepy, like they're all science experiments.” 

The red bot snorted. “You get used to it. Once a drone is activated it's usually better to keep it active instead of shutting it down, but to have them walking around is just a chore. This keeps everyone happy, no mess, no rusting drones, etc. Now- ...” The red bot was looking at the questionform Swerve had filled in, and he walked briskly in between the berths. Swerve trod after him and tried his best not to look skittish as the empty drone optics followed his movements. 

“Hm, even with these rejects your budget is kind of limited.” The red bot said. “I assume you don't want one with violent tendencies?” 

“You assume right!” Swerve said quickly, and he shot a look at a huge construction drone that looked ready to rip his head off. “I'd like a docile one- you know, one that can follow rules? One that knows it's strength and stuff, maybe good at being precise, and organising and cataloguing?” 

The red bot pursed his lips and nodded. “Hmmm... I think I might have a match.” 

He moved quick, and stopped near one of the biggest berths, where an enormous drone was lying prone in his restraints. His optics were blue, and looking sternly at the red employee. 

“This one was meant to be a bigshot enforcer under the code name 'Ultra Magnus' but the instalment of the Tyrest accord messed with his personality coding, and it's irreparable. On top of that, this entire build was experimental- something about an exchangeable suit for smaller drones to make it easier to switch them out if they became faulty, but it failed. The drone they stuck in during testing merged completely with the suit and it's impossible to get out without destroying the whole thing. It's a bit of an energy guzzler, lots of heavy weapons on it too, no permits, but he goes for about 8000 shanix.” 

Swerve felt like he had a small spark-attack. “Uh....that- that's the reject price-?” 

“A new personal drone, smallest frametype without modifications comes down to about... 20.000” The red mech said, he looked a little amused at Swerve's shocked expression. “Let me guess, you got your info from Buy 'em – pire?” 

“Well, yes?” 

The red mecha sighed, and he rolled his optics. “They sell 'personal drones'. In the same way that that fancy fuel shop in District D321 sells 'Energonn' with two nn's. 'Drones' is a brandname for their agenda-program- the one with a pixelated face and extra planning subroutines.” The red mech elaborated. “Real drones like these go for a lot more. Taking aside their fabricated sparks, their entire frame is worth just as much as the frame of a fully sparked Cybertronian!” 

“Well, good thing you have a bargain bin!” Swerve said, and he laughed a little too loud. “So, is that all that's wrong with this one? A lot of fuel consumption, stickler for the rules, chock-full of weapons it can't use?” 

“Pretty much, yes. The reason why it's not selling is because the processor and spark are just garbage for all the jobs that fit the frame, and the frame is so energon ineffective that nobody really gets a use out of it when using it as, say, a secretary.” The red mech said. “It's actually due for salvaging within seven Orns.” 

Swerve looked at the drone, and he met deep stern blue optics that made him feel as if he'd grabbed something out of a shop-aisle. “Can you give me specifics on that fuel consumption...?” 

The red mech grabbed a datapad that was connected to the drone's berth, and handed it to Swerve. Swerve gaped a little. “...Six and a half cubes minimum???” 

“Yes.” The red bot said. “And that is just in idle state. When you get the maximum use out of the drone, it guzzles a near eight cubes a day, but that is when you consider high speed chases, battles, hostage situations... Not your every-day stuff.” 

Swerve looked at the numbers, and then looked up to the drone. The energon, believe it or not, was not really a problem. It was getting more expensive, but as a metallurgist Swerve often got to keep the remains of whatever batch of fuel was sent to him to check.  
Usually, he kept the energon at home and used it to invite colleagues and friends over for a drink. He actually had a stockpile somewhere in a back room. A savings pot of some sort, to someday start a bar in his apartment. It was illegal to do anything but the job that fit your frame, but on some days, the dream of a bar was the only thing that got Swerve to get out of his berth. 

“Is there anything... cheaper?” He felt compelled to ask, even if his decision was already forming. 

“I'm afraid not, unless you are willing to take a violent, angry reprogrammed helicopter that the previous owner performed empurata on....” The red mech drawled, and his optics slid over to the far end of the room where a drone was thrashing angrily against padded restraints. 

Swerve optics locked with the blazing yellow optic of the helicopter. “Oooh, oh no I'm fine! This one's just great. I'll- I'll take this one. Yea.”

Swerve looked back into the large blue optics of his drone. Now, on top of pretending that the thing was only a personal assistant, he could pretend that the drone was going to be happy and thankful to be saved from the smelting pools. 

“Good!” The red mech said, and his grin actually seemed genuine this time. “You can take him home right away, his alt-mode is a truck. His compartment is included in the price, and his tanks are at fifty percent capacity, per our policy. If you would sign the owner codes and the credit exchange...?” 

It was not much later that all the bureaucratics were out of the way, and the red mech was undoing the restraints and pulling the feeding tube from the drone's intake. 

Swerve stood nervously by the side, and watched as his newly purchased companion sat up on his berth. 

“I was under the impression that I was to be re-purposed, as stated by Act 3, subcategory five of the Tyrest accord regarding ineffective experimental weaponry.” The mech said in a low voice, his stern blue optics focused solely on the red employee.

The red mech frowned. “Yess, and according to act... what was it now... act five point zero three, the exact meaning of this re-purposing is to be decided by the original owner, and your owner decided to sell you. So there. This here-” He waved vaguely at Swerve. “- is your new master, so Tyrest accord or not, he's your boss.”

Swerve smiled shakily at the huge drone and waved. “Hii- I'm Swe-” 

“Owner, as the duly appointer enforcer of the Tyrest accord-” 

“...not an enforcer anymore.” The employee mumbled.

“-I am obliged to tell you that although at your complete disposal, I will not do anything or allow anything to happen that violates the accord. Illegal activities or other non-regulation abiding actions will be sent to the enforcers.” The drone stated. 

“Oh.” Swerve said. No bar it seemed. Ever. Oh boy, this was already the worst decision he had made. He looked at the red employee, who was still unhooking the drone from some wires. The mech noticed him, and opened a commlink.

::Don't worry- it has the commlink address of the enforcer, but it calls headquarters to let them know that the street tiles are askew and someone took their pet inside one klik after the curfew. Unless you murder someone, nobody is going to pay any attention to his messages. The thing that's most likely to happen is you getting a request from the enforcers to shut off his commlink::

Swerve was not completely convinced, but when he looked back at his drone, it was scowling at a lamp that was flickering slightly. 

“I'll keep that in mind, thanks. Hey, er, Drone? My name is Swerve, and.... I'm your owner now?” It felt weird to say, and Swerve resolved to find a better way of phrasing it. 

“Yes.” The drone said. “My original designation was Minimus Ambus, but my current designation is Ultra Magnus, as is standard for the inhabitant drone of the enforcer-drone suit U-M1” 

“Cool, uh, yea. I'll take you home now, for your first set of orders.” Swerve said. 

The red employee snorted, and a slag-eating grin grew on his faceplate.“Let me escort you outside. I sure hope you enjoy that 'first set of orders'.”

Swerve laughed along awkwardly. “Yea, thanks!” He fled from the store as fast as he could, his new drone following behind him.

The way to his home was thankfully not too crowded, but by the time he finally reached his habcompartment he felt like he never wanted to show his face ever again.  
He'd seen far too many mecha look from him to the drone, and then draw the inevitable conclusion that he had purchased a bargain-bin interface aid. They weren't wrong, per se. Swerve was aching for an overload that didn't come from his own hand, but he had other things to worry about, like the main-rules of the house, and standard interactions.

Swerve opened the door to his habcompartment, and ushered his new purchase inside. The drone looked thoroughly unimpressed with Swerve's house, and his shoulder-stacks almost scraped against the ceiling when he stood straight. Swerve wondered if his apartment was somehow violating the Tyrest accord. Judging by how the drone's optics narrowed as it scanned his apartment, it probably did. 

“Okay, so, first set of orders.” Swerve started, and the huge drone glared at him. He felt like the machine was daring him to list an illegal order, and judging from what the employee had told about him, that was probably a very accurate guess.

“Order number one; never laugh at me.” He started. “Unless I make a joke, and you think it is a funny joke, but I'm not sure if drones have a program to recognise humour or jokes. Just-... don't laugh at me.” 

The drone's expression remained the same; a stern frown set it stone. 

“Second order; never, never ever tell me to shut up. Always listen to me when I talk, even if it's boring, or stupid, or silly, or whatever-. You listen to me.” 

The drone's frown became deeper if that was at all possible. “Does this include any order you might give during your speech?”

“Err-...” Swerve had quite a few stories that involved sentences like 'dropkick him!' and 'purge, purge, purge!', and it wouldn't be that great if the drone started to reanact everything he said. “No, no that wouldn't be good. I mean 'listen to me' as in; don't tell me to stop talking when I'm talking. That's the order, just when I talk, don't tell me to stop unless it endangers my life or when I'm burning a cake or something.” 

Swerve wouldn't admit it, but it was actually very soothing when the drone remained silent. He didn't like to explain why he wanted the things he wanted. It never failed to ruin good moments when he had to explain in detail that people hated listening to him. 

“Okayyy... Third order...” He hadn't really thought of a third order. “... hold yourself to the three laws of robotics? No killing, no harming, all that stuff?” He said with a lame grin. 

The drone's frown remained in place, and its only reaction was a tight narrowing of its optics. 

“Right.” Swerve said. “You can laugh if you find my jokes funny, okay? Remember that. Anyway, this is my house.”

He gestured to the apartment. He had a pretty big living room, for minibot standards, a washrack and a berthroom. There was a utility closet, but he mostly used it to stockpile the excess energon he got from his job, and the Blurr-merchandise he didn't have a place for. 

“This is the main room. All those chairs you're seeing are for visitors. Er, I'm not sure which one is built to withstand the weight of a house, but for now you should probably try the pink one. My own chair is that one, see, right in the middle, with the bright colours.”

Swerve hopped over to his chair and sat down. “I put it here for easy access to the energon and the glasses, plus- I can hear all the conversations crystal clear, so I don't have to miss a word! Though now you can do all the glass fetching and energon-pouring, so I can probably move my chair closer to the rest.” 

Ultra Magnus was still silent, but he went and carefully sat on the solid pink chair that Swerve usually reserved for the heftier visitors he had. It'd been a joke to make it look really weird with grittier and dirtier builds, but so far he hadn't had much luck with it.  
Swerve looked at his drone and was grinning before he knew it. The sight of the huge blue mech seated regally in a frilly pink chair was exactly what he'd been hoping to see when he'd purchased the chair.. “I knew it was a good idea to get that chair in pink.” He chortled to himself. Ultra Magnus remained stoic. Swerve cut his laughter short and cleared his vocaliser

“Ahehm, right. The energon dispenser is in that corner, behind those opaque panels. You can keep yourself fuelled to... let's say... 75 %? Yea, that sounds about right, and you're free to use the washracks whenever.” Swerve went on. Ultra Magnus just sat and listened, his piercing blue optics unfalteringly focused on Swerve. Swerve would be lying if he said he didn't like that. “So, I know drones usually need a bit less maintenance than regular Cybertronians do... but do you need a berth to sleep on?” 

“It would be preferable, but it is not lawfully required to give drones their own berth.” Ultra Magnus responded dryly. 

“My berth should be big enough for the both of us....” Swerve said quietly. The drone was large, but so was his berth. Swerve still couldn't clearly remember why he'd bought such a large berth. At least now it'd get a decent use.  
The drone didn't move, and Swerve quickly realised that what he'd said hadn't been an order. “Oh, that's right- gotta use orders, not just babble around. Drone, I order you to sleep in my berth with me?” 

Ultra Magnus' optics dimmed and relit a little. “Yes sir.” It said, and it already made a move to get up.

“No, wait, not yet! I mean later, when the suns are actually going down.” Swerve said hastily, and the drone sat back down. It was really too early to go to berth, but Swerve didn't have anything else to do in his day. He could use a little bit of extra rest, and maybe even a round of interface if their equipment was compatible. Tomorrow he would continue his work as a metallurgist, checking packages and energon and Primus-knows what else for dangerous or illegal elements.  
His planned little 'colleague night' had gone down the drain as well, for the third time, so he wouldn't have to worry about that. Topkick had been summoned to be a witness in some court, Skinner was invited to a three-cycles lasting bonding-festival, and the rest just had said they had different things to do. 

Tonight though, tonight he'd have at least one visitor to entertain, and this one couldn't excuse himself and walk out! Swerve smiled at his drone, and an impassive frown looked back. 

“What do you say, we start a party up in here?” He said, and he jumped up on the seat of his chair, pulling a large glass from the wall behind him and flipping the glass in his hand. 

The drone looked just as bland-faced as before, but Swerve didn't let it get to him. Drones were said to be almost indistinguishably lifelike. Maybe Ultra Magnus just needed a jump-start? A bit of energex to get him going? What better time to start than the now? 

Swerve grinned, and flipped the glass again, almost dropping it to the floor. “What kind of drink do you want? I can mix it all!” He said.

The drone almost seemed a little startled, and the stern optics were partially obscured by a frown. “My fuel levels are acceptable. Additionally, the intake of charge-inducing fuel is prohibited for any and all officers of the law according to section 16-03 of section 7 of the Tyrest accord.” 

“Uh... Right.” Swerve said. “And off-duty?” 

The drone was silent for a moment. “Off-duty officers are allowed a 'minor buzz' as stated in subsection 3b.” It said. 

“So, not against the law then, right?” Swerve said, and the drone nodded. Swerve grinned. “Then you're getting a drink, and then, we're gonna party until the neighbours come back from their jobs and complain about the noise!” 

Swerve quickly went over to his bar, and began mixing a drink. He looked at the drone. “You won't believe what happened at work the other day. I work as a metallurgist, most for the huge postal packages, and the stuff people try to send is just insane sometimes. Can you believe someone tried to smuggle contaminants in a fake spike? I mean, it's like these people don't even know that they use metallurgists to check the packages, it's weird! Like they got some sort of disconnection with reality- probably comes with getting sparked in Kaon.”

He continued to talk, mixing a drink that he didn't end up drinking, because there was nobody interrupting him for once. The drone simply sat on the frilly pink chair, and slowly sipped on his own drink, his blue optics unfalteringly focused on Swerve – listening. 

BREAK 

“Lie back on the berth.” Swerve said to the drone. Outside it had gone dark, and the rumble and tumble of his neighbours coming back from their jobs had long since quieted down.  
The entertainment-area was well used, and a good five empty glasses were standing in a neat line where the drone had sat. They had watched a vid-file together, and Swerve hadn't been told to shut up even once. 

Now they were standing by Swerve's berth, Swerve's helm feeling woozy from the highgrade. Ultra Magnus was slow and cumbersome, but it did as Swerve said, and it stiffly laid down on the berth. Its huge arms were lying ramrod straight next to its frame, and Swerve's muddled brain wondered if it would be comfortable to be wrapped up in those arms.  
Well, for once, he'd be able to find out. 

Carefully, he clambered onto the berth, and tried to keep his overly full tanks from roiling. He'd maybe overdone it on the drinks, but it'd been such a wonderful night. The idea of cutting it short just because he didn't want to take another drink had been too much to even consider.

“O-...okay.” His vocaliser glitched out. “New order.” 

He let himself fall onto his drone's chest, and listened to the gurgling clunks and whirs inside the warm frame. His back felt a little cold, and he wrapped his fingers around a bit of protruding armour. The drone was not moving, and Swerve cuddled a little closer. 

“Hold me like... as if you like me.” He wasn't really sure if that was going to be enough explanation for the drone, but he hoped so. He didn't really know how he would explain what he meant if the drone happened to need clarification. He just wanted to feel loved, and sheltered. Like there was a warm spot in the world somewhere just for him alone. 

“I'm sorry, sir?” Ultra Magnus said. 

“I...” Swerve struggled to explain. “Fold your arms a-around my frame, and hold me really close to your chest, to your spark. Maybe warm your engines a little bit, rumble or hum, or sing-... no, nevermind, just- whenever you hold me like this, when I ask you to hold me like this, just tell me that you like me.” 

His vocaliser was glitching again, and he reset it. “Tell me that you like my stories, and my jokes, and-... and me. Tell me nice things.”

Ultra Magnus was quiet for a moment, but then its huge arms came up and awkwardly locked around Swerve's frame. Swerve was reminded of some sort of chokehold, but a little less stiff and arresting. It was warm though, just like he had hoped, and the weight of the drone's arms pressed him close to the heavily armoured chestplates.

“I like you.” The drone rumbled quietly. “I like your stories, and your jokes.” 

“Add my name...” Swerve whispered. 

“I like you. Swerve.” The drone said, and one of his large hands awkwardly patted Swerve's back. “And I like your stories.” There was a small moment of silence again, and then the drone said his name again, almost quiet enough to pass as tender. 

Swerve offlined his optics, and rested his faceplate against the warm frame of his drone. This wasn't what he really wanted. He wanted someone to say those words without having to ask for them. He wanted a hug because someone saw that he needed one, because they saw that he felt like there was nobody in the world that remembered him.  
He didn't want to pay for people's attention with energon and jokes. He just wanted to stop being so lonely. 

“I like you.” The drone said again, and Swerve willed himself to believe that the machine underneath him was an actual person, and that his words were more than just an order being repeated to himself. 

“I like you too...” He answered quietly. It wasn't real, but the one upside of that, was that it couldn't be taken away either. There would never be a moment where Ultra Magnus would turn around, and tell him that he'd had enough- that he had been lying, and that he was going away to a more fun person. No, a drone was not real companionship, but at least it was companionship he would have forever, and that would have to be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I got a nasty tendency to make Swerve go 'Um, eh, err' and 'oh' a lot. If it gets annoying too much- lemme know, I'll blast em out of the story :) 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this! Thank you Charivari for all the motivation and support, you made this story possible ^^ If you have a tag you would like to be added, or think would be fitting, please let me know.


End file.
